Carnivorous Torture
by PrimaryColoredExpressionist
Summary: The Cullen family are unique among other vampires in their choice to feed on animals rather than people. They jokingly refer to themselves as "vegetarians", but nobody is perfect. And Edward is about to fall off the bandwagon...
1. Chapter 1

I lay on my back on a bed that is not mine, staring at a ceiling that does not belong over my pathetically undeserving head. It is all too easy for me to visualize Bella's image in the completely random ridges of plaster. It is all too easy for me to visualize Bella period. Regardless of where I am or how preoccupied I seem to be, her likeness is forever ingrained in every aspect of my existence.

Perhaps that is because Bella Swan is my existence; the seemingly insignificant girl who defines me. She fills my long dead, frozen form with life that I greedily bask in. My eyes trace the soft slopes of her face before shifting inside the imaginary boundaries to correctly place her eyes, her nose, her lips...

Much more of this and I would be attempting to caress Bella's bedroom ceiling. I could only imagine what she might say, emerging from the relaxing hot water of her shower to find me with my hand cupping thin air, reaching upward as I stare longingly at what she would perceive as nothing.

Smiling to myself, I force the fantasy to disappear by focusing on the reality of the structure. The protruding, crooked ridges all in varying sizes and groupings do remind me of something else. Yes, even when I am not organizing them into the sole fixation of my imagination, they truly do resemble something.

Something… It is very rarely a word I use. Usually my mind will supply me with whatever answer I seek instantaneously. Why should this one evade me now? Surely there would be no harm in unearthing this information. I furrow my brow in concentration and whatever was blocking this realization evaporates swiftly. Immediately I wish I had remained oblivious.

Veins. The ridges of the ceiling appear to my monster's eye as veins.

My scorched throat burns with a familiar intensity. I turn away quickly, but not quickly enough. I am already seeing the sweet, wet, hot liquid flowing in those nonexistent veins. Not the barely appealing juices of the beasts I feed upon, but _human_ blood. The only thing that could ever really quench the savage thirst I house like a disgusting disease.

Usually I am able to banish these vile notions to the deepest, darkest recesses of my thoughts, but I am so desperately thirsty. It was undoubtedly foolish of me to come here tonight. To be with Bella who not only possesses the drink every cell of my predatory body craves, but possesses a unique variation of it that cries out horrendously louder than any other I have ever encountered.

I rise swiftly to my feet. I will write Bella a message explaining I have gone to hunt and exit silently out the window. Her safety cannot be chanced. Especially not by the likes of me. If I were ever to-

I hear her. She is on her way to the room. The mere seconds I have before she makes her appearance are more than enough time for me to complete my tasks. If I moved now, I could be miles away from the limits of the Swan property when she reached the doorway. If I moved now, everything that mattered to me would be out of the danger I so unwillingly embodied.

But…If I moved now, I would miss seeing Bella with beads of water caught in her long, chocolate locks… The moist feel of her freshly cleansed skin… The renewed essence of strawberry mingled tantalizingly with her freesia scent…

The door opens. My feet stay stubbornly, idiotically rooted in place.

"Edward!"

The exclamation, although soft due to the presence of her father just down the hall, was so saturated with joy I found myself grinning in unison with her. Bella hurls herself at me, leaving me totally befuddled yet again at her complete and utter trust in me.

The contrast between her temperature and mine is even more startling than usual. I carefully wrap my arms around her, returning her enthusiastic embrace. To my distorted perception it is like grasping flames. The burn I feel, though, is undeniably pleasant. My body holds her tighter instinctually as it tries to transfer some of her heat on to itself.

_So warm._

Of course, this action also drowns me in a thick cloud of her intoxicating odor. It feels as though a bomb has just detonated in the back of my throat. It would be so easy to turn my head toward her fragile neck and-

No. Not Bella. Not any human ever again.

"You came," Bella continues happily. All of these reactions had played themselves out in a matter of seconds.

"Of course," I say before admitting, "It's impossible for me to stay away."

She shudders. I realize how unpleasantly cold I must feel to her. Disgusted, I release my hold on her and return to the other side of her room to sit back down on the bed. My attempt to distance myself from temptation falls flat, however, as she follows suit and seats herself at my side. I close my eyes; finding the venom flooding my mouth shamefully difficult to ignore.

"I have to leave," I confess to myself and Bella simultaneously.

Bella's heart stutters before picking up double time. Panicing.

"What?" she asks shakily.

I reopen my eyes, and turn to face her. It is evident she is trying to hide how very horrified she is by this idea, but she is far from successful. This is why I had let myself get to this point of unbearable need. Because I could endure the raw, screaming torture of my thirst infinitely better than I could withstand upsetting her.

I knew it was not wise, but I pulled her to me anyway. I pressed my face into her hair –still wet- and sucked the strawberries and freesia deep into my lungs. Damn if the pleasure wasn't more powerful than the pain.

"Just to hunt," I reassure her, "I won't be long."

Her rich brown eyes appraise my face for a moment. I watch them take in my black stare until, finally, Bella nods. How I wish this was not a necessity.

"I'm sorry, Bella. I shouldn't have come at all. I shouldn't have endangered you this way, but I-"

"Shhh," she interrupts, "I'm glad you came. More than glad, actually. I missed you today."

Even after the knowledge of my current state is made clear to her, she shifts closer and burrows her head lovingly into my chest.

"Have you no instinct of self-preservation?" I ask in disbelief.

Her response is a peaceful smile, "None."

I sigh.

"Will you wait until I'm asleep? Before you leave I mean?"

It isn't a wise idea, I know that. Every second I remain here is putting Bella's life on the line. I open my mouth to tell her this… and make the mistake of meeting her pleading gaze. Damn it.

"All right," I hear myself say without conscious permission.

*

Approximately two hours later I am racing through the wilderness. Emmett and Jasper had gone last weekend, Carlisle with Esme and Alice a few days after that, and Rosalie…is Rosalie, so I'm hunting alone. That's fine with me. In my animalistic state of mind I barely notice the lack of company.

The wind blows into my face. I inhale deeply, preparing for the welcome scent of prey, and am instead assaulted by something much, much stronger. _Real _prey. Not a deer, or an elk, or a bear, or even a mountain lion, but a human. My body charges mindlessly forward the instant this registers. I am unprepared to fight the automatic response, no matter how used to fighting I may be.

When I finally gain enough control to bring myself to a halt, the human is standing just a few feet away. It is a man wearing the clothes expected of a hiker with the gun of a hunter in his hands. His expression is one of fear. His eyes shift uneasily around him.

_Where is he? Where is he? Where the hell is he?_

The man's thoughts are frantic. I scan the area for his pursuer, an image ingrained in his head, but find no one. I suck in a scorching breath and detect no other human close by.

"No! No! No!" the man shouts in spite of my findings.

A sob escapes his lips and he falls to his knees. The gun previously held securely in his hands drops…and unpredictably fires. The man did not even have the chance to gasp. The bullet pierces straight through the middle of him as if it were aimed to do so. Blood projects out of the wound as he falls forward and the light vacates his still-open eyes.

Dead.

Liquefied crimson leaks out of him quickly, seeping on to the ground and soaking his shirt. The shock, the suddenness, and the thirst; it is all too much. It overwhelms me. The monster takes control. And I am lost.

Even with my infallible mind, I cannot tell exactly what I am doing. My food- for I can no longer think of him as a man- is beneath me. My teeth are tearing into his flesh. Wild, angry sounds are bursting out of me. But none of that matters. It is all secondary to the blood.

The first taste is like diving off the top of a mountain that you have spent your entire life climbing. As if you had let go; had finally given into the gravity that you and you alone fought against. It isn't like losing, because it is a battle that would never cease. You could climb as high as you wanted, but the pull downward would always be there. It would always be yanking at you, exhausting you, ready to take advantage of any moment of weakness.

The fight is pointless. This is what I am. This is what I am meant to do. No matter how long I resisted I wouldn't ever stop craving this. It isn't an addiction; it's worse. It is part of me, entwined with me in such a way that I have no hope of escaping.

And I am so very, very tired of trying to deny the inevitable.

So I embrace the fall. I let gravity have its' way with me. I fill my mouth again and again, and, although I know it is the ground I am falling to, each sip lifts me higher and higher. It is absolute ecstasy, this pleasure that I indulge in.

I drink until the corpse is dry, then retreat a few yards from it and lay down on the forest floor. I stare up at the cloudy sky, feeling fully satisfied for the first time in decades. There is no pain in my throat. It is not merely lessened, but completely absent. I can feel the fluid trickling through my veins. It makes me strong, powerful. But I have no desire to do anything other than lay here. None.

_None._

The word echoes in my head only it is not in my own voice. It is in Bella's. I jolt up instantly.

Bella.

Bella.

Bella.

She trusted me when I did not trust myself. She looked me in my unnatural eyes and told me I was good, that I was not a monster, until I began to believe it myself. And here I am proving her wrong. Here I am proving Carlisle wrong. Here I am proving myself wrong.

With heavy feet I return to the body. I did not kill him, that is true. I can find some small comfort in that. Even if I had not been hunting in these woods, the gun would still have fired and he would still be lost to his loved ones. Who were the loved ones who would be grieving now? Who was this man who had died here alone in a strange fit of panic?

I rummage around until I locate his wallet. His name was Mark Louis Wilson. He was 36 years old. He lived in California before he came here to…to visit a psychiatric hospital? Yes, that is what the crumpled paper stuffed to the side of his credit cards says. According to this form he suffered from severe paranoia and delusions. What little I had observed of him makes sense now.

I find nothing concerning his family, and I admit I am grateful for that. I drop the worn piece of leather by Mark's side before walking away from him. I stare down into one of the many puddles soaking the mossy forest floor into my reflection.

I hate the menacing ruby eyes.

I hate the repulsed monster's face.

I hate me.


	2. Chapter 2

I want to collapse in the timeless wilderness and remain there until I have been accepted by nature as part of its greenery. Like a stone covered in moss, its origins forgotten. At least then I wouldn't have to face all of those whom I had let down in my weakness. But I know that Alice will see me here, if she hasn't already, and the prospect of her coming to drag me home is humiliating.

_Why hadn't she seen this? What was the use of having a psychic for a sister if not to prevent a tragedy such as this from happening?_

But even as I attempt to shift a fraction of the blame to someone other than myself, I know exactly why this event had slipped by her futuristic eye undetected. I know because I understand her ability better than anyone next to Alice herself. My own ability, not to see into the future, but to see into the mind, provides me with great insight. I have watched countless visions through the medium of her thoughts just as she watches them herself, and decisions are always the catalyst.

Alice had experienced no foresight into this occurrence for the fact that there were no thought out decisions precipitating it. Mark had not been mentally stable, his death had been an accident, and if I had been capable of decision making, my eyes would not be full of his blood.

Decisions are being made now, though, and I cannot surrender to my cowardly desires. I must return to my family. It is the one thing I am sure of. I turn back to Mark's pallid body, staring at it for a long moment. Another complication in this tangled mess: What to do with his remains?

The gunshot wound would explain his death well enough, but what of the wounds I had caused? What of his bloodless state? So then there are two things I am sure of. I must return to my family, but first I must dispose of what is left of Mark. Suspicions, no matter how unlikely, are to be avoided at all costs. Though I had not known him personally, what I could gather leads me to believe Mark's life had been no stroll in the park. At the very least the man deserved a proper burial.

This is not the first time I have needed to destroy the evidence of a victim. Recalling those dark days during which I had killed so many humans- vulgar, cynical, even demonic humans, but still humans in the technical sense of the word- is difficult for me. It is always difficult for me to face the monster barely contained within me, but it sickens me all the more now to be cursed with the knowledge of how close to the surface the monster really is. Being with Bella has shown me how strong I can be, and to have that strength which her delicate life depends on reduced so suddenly to nothing is terrifying.

I force myself to abandon this painful train of thought.

"Focus on cleaning up the situation before becoming consumed with its aftermath," I instruct myself sternly.

Robotically I approach the first reasonably sized tree in my line of sight. With one pull, I free it from the earth. I dig through the soil with my bare hands, then place Mark inside of the black hole.

"I'm sorry I couldn't do better than this for you," I tell him.

I meant it as an apology for the makeshift grave, but there is so much more that I am sorry for. After covering up any hint of disturbance, I turn to begin the trip home. Sluggish with dread, I notice the wallet still lying on the grass where I'd dropped it. Another decision is made. I reach down and place it in my pocket. I tell myself it's just for reasons of caution, just so my family will be able to keep an eye out for any information concerning him, but I know the truth.

It will serve as a morbid reminder of my flawed self control. As a vampire I need no reminders, but I want physical evidence of this. If I wanted any hope of doing right by Bella, physical evidence would be necessary.

*

Alice is standing out on the porch waiting for me when I arrive.

_Edward, I know what happened. There's no reason for you to feel guilty. It could have been any one of us out there-_

"But it wasn't," I interrupt her thought sharply; "It was me. And you can't tell me that if it were Carlisle-"

"Well, of course not. But you can't compare yourself to Carlisle, Edward! That's ridiculous!"

"You're right. I can't compare myself to him. Not then and definitely not now."

"Would you just-"

She is stopped mid-sentence by Emmett who chose this exact moment to join us.

"What are you guys-"

But Emmett is stopped too. Not by another family member, but by surprise. When he had spoken I'd made the mistake of making eye contact with him. I dropped my gaze to the floor a second too late.

_I didn't tell them, _Alice silently explains, _I didn't think it was my place._

"Fell off the bandwagon, eh Edward?" Emmett asks sounding amused.

Leave it to Emmett…

Suppressing the urge to growl, I glare at him (an expression made more effective by the shameful color of my eyes) and go inside. No use in staying out here when everyone can hear anyway. Sure enough they are all gathered together just a few feet away from the entrance. I purposely ignore their thoughts, I don't want to know them, and walk straight to my father.

"Carlisle…," I say, feeling positively wretched, "I am so very sorry. Please-"

"It doesn't matter how sorry you are, Edward. That doesn't change the fact that we all have to start over now. Thanks a lot," Rosalie throws in acidly.

"But we don't!" Alice pipes up, happy to be the bearer of good news.

A great number of "what??"s resound in my head.

"We really don't!" Alice repeats at their skeptically confused expressions.

Their faces show no change, and then turn to me seeking confirmation.

"It's true," I reluctantly tell them, "There's no reason we have to evacuate."

"What do you mean there's no reason?! Have you both lost your minds?!" Rosalie demands.

It appears as though she wishes to say more, but Carlisle raises one hand thankfully silencing her.

"Would you explain that to us please? What happened, Edward?"

His voice, always so calm and sure, causes the guilt to twist inside me. He must know how terrible I feel because he reassures me with his thoughts.

_You haven't disappointed me. You are still my son; my good, talented, wonderful son. I will never cease to have faith in you, no matter what you tell me now._

And so I tell them all of delusional, paranoid Mark. I tell them of his accident; his death. I tell them of his blood. I tell them of my thirst. I tell them of my weakness and revolting satisfaction. I tell them of the tree that is his gravestone, and, finally, I show them his wallet as I conclude my nightmare.

Then I wait.


	3. Chapter 3

I lay on a couch that is mine, glaring at a ceiling that somehow still does not belong over my even more pathetically undeserving head. Frustration is emanating from my every pore as I contemplate what the future holds for me. The ridges of this ceiling resemble the passageways of blood almost exactly. I am unsure if this striking similarity is truly evident, or if the taste of Mark's blood, still fresh on my tongue, is influencing my interpretation.

Still fresh on my tongue, but already I can feel the satisfaction slowly fading from my fingertips. The thirst will return with a vengeance in a matter of days. Two weeks from now my eyes will be black once again. It is an endless cycle of temporary contentment and eternal longing. 'Eternally damned' is nothing if not the truest description of our kind; a phrase that cuts through all of our alluring splendor with brutal honesty. How Bella could ever desire to join me in this inescapable prison is beyond my comprehension.

I flinch.

I should have known Bella would creep into my musings somewhere along the line. Wasn't it just a handful of hours before that I had mulled over my tireless absorption with her? Unbelievable that time can seem so slow to a century old immortal. Granted, such a great deal has happened to me in those few hours, the amount of time seems disproportionate. It should take longer for my entire existence to be thrown into question.

Right before my eyes, the veins morph into the lone object of my affection who has wrought staggering controversy amongst us all. It seems to be a reverse of the nearly identical scene which took place in the innocent youth of this night, but there is a horrifying difference. While the veins do morph, they do not vanish. They simply remain there visible in Bella's unreal face; the fantasy of one desire combining with another so that they are one and the same.

I snap my lids closed in a futile attempt to shield myself from what I already realize. The incessant fire in my throat that plagues me whenever I am in her presence has made it impossible for me to ignore the euphoria drinking from Bella would bring me. It would be double the high I had experienced from draining Mark. No, double is a pathetic understatement. It would be _ten times _the pleasure.

But a thousand times the misery.

No high, no matter how extreme or long lasting, could ever be worth Bella's life.

Ever.

This train of thought leads me to recall the repugnant assumptions my family, with the exception of Alice, had made a short while ago downstairs. Because I had been ignoring them at first, I had remained ignorant. But after I completed my tale of defeat, their treacherous conclusions had been made all too clear.

They were only being logical. After all, they are aware of just how much Bella appeals to me. Emmett has experienced this draw firsthand on two separate occasions, both of which led to the demise of the desirable. If I were to lapse in control, who more likely to pay for my mistake than she who personifies all that I crave?

But this reason does not prevent the figurative bile from rising in my throat. The fact that they had guessed at this proves what I have been denying to myself since the day I decided I was strong enough to be with Bella: Even after all we have been through, my killing her is still a possibility.

A very likely possibility, if I am being honest.

I let myself fall off of the mountain. Does that mean I have to climb it all over again? Was every wall of resistance I had built up annihilated? My carelessness like a wrecking ball, plowing through the boundary I fought to put between myself and the monster like tissue paper…

Once my family knew the truth behind my ruby eyes, knew that what they had originally imagined was not the case, the majority of them could not understand why I was so haunted by what had happened. The situation I had been thrown into with no forewarning had all but forced me to feed. As Alice was trying to tell me when I returned, it could have been any of us. And, as Rosalie had oh so kindly reminded me, it wasn't as if I had never fed from a human before.

This all makes sense, and if I did not have Bella, perhaps I would agree with them.

But I _do _have Bella.

And, as always, she changes everything.

How could I face her now? Am I even capable of facing her? Strong enough?

Fear pulses through me at the feeling of uncertainty. Uncertainty will not do. Until I am positive I can be trusted, I must steer clear of her. Though the sky is to be safely covered in clouds, I cannot go to school tomorrow.

I shift unsteadily curling into myself. My arms wrap around my bent legs. My chin rests on my knees. It is my body's silent protest to going any extended length of time without Bella. It is reminding me of those dreadful months during which I had sat like this for days on end. Completely useless. Utterly devoid of meaning. Empty of all but agony.

_Edward? I'm coming in. _

Alice's thought startles me, and then the door opens and I am no longer alone.

I do not move, though I can see her from the corner of my eye. Her petite arms are crossed over her chest. She is not pleased, but suddenly her expression softens.

_Surprised you, didn't I? _She smiles a triumphant smile.

Being a mind-reading vampire does make for few surprises. I suppose she is justified in her odd quirk of joy.

"Leave me be. Please."

The joy disappears.

_No._

I release my legs and pinch the bridge of my nose between my fingers, "I have a lot on my mind right now. Can't you understand that?"

_It tears Bella apart when you're not around. Can't you understand _that_?_

My eyes squeeze shut, "What else is there to do, Alice?"

It won't be permanent. Just until I can trust myself again. Not like the last time. I won't leave Forks, and I'll talk to her over the phone…

_It will still scare her to death, Edward. Even with the phone calls. She'll know something's not right. _

She begins to show me a vision of a very distraught Bella.

"Alice…," I beg.

The vision abruptly fades into darkness. At first I believe she is responding to my plea, but remembered murmurs of frustration in her head tell me otherwise.

Why…?

I lock eyes with her, questioning.

She shakes her head, reciting various insults to my intelligence before telling me what she thought I would already know.

_It's the wolves!_

Of course! Of course the very moment I decide to let Bella alone…

I bolt to my feet in one enraged movement. I am unable to stop the low growl that escapes my clenched teeth.

"Jacob," I snarl.

_I can't be sure, but I'd bet on it._

And I never bet against Alice.


End file.
